Crimson Lips
by BellatrixLestrangey
Summary: Goretober day 4: Smile. Chasing an urban legend, Mirta and Lucy visit a former cosmetic surgery clinic.


_She didn't exactly have the facial structure of a witch. None of her people did. The inhabitants of Dyamond, when it was still teeming with life, had classically fairy faces. Wide eyes and soft noses. Rounded chins and less prominent cheekbones. She supposed that it made sense considering that most of them chose to take up light magic. _

_Icy was an anomaly in that regard, having an affinity for the dark. She had no use for the cuter, more delicate features that her people were known for. _

_She has had work done before, an operation to give her nose a slight point. And she planned on doing the same with her chin. By the time she was finished, she would have sharper cheekbones as well. Overall, she was going for a more strikingly wicked look. Something like what Griffin had, but with a more beautiful edge. _

_She glanced at the time, having another ten minutes before her operation, she scrolled through her texts, none of which were particularly fascinating. The ice witch drummed her fingers upon the armrest. _

_She watched a few people with rather unfortunate facial structures step up to the counter and request consultation sessions. At least Icy could say that she wasn't hideous upon her first entry, she was simply seeking out a more edgy sort of beauty. _

_They called her into the room. "Don't pay any mind to these." The surgone motioned to pointed tools that line the tables. She had come to realize that, that was her standard greeting. They hadn't intimidated her the first time she laid eyes upon them. _

_Normally, she'd snap with a harsh, "let's just get to the surgery." But she thought it unwise to provoke the woman about to work on her face. _

_Icy laid herself across the operating table, staring up at the dim and familiar lights. She could hear them humming faintly. Annoyingly. _

_The woman fixed a mask over her face. Icy knew the procedure. Breathe in and count to ten, she thought before the surgeon said it. She inhaled and began the count. She didn't look forward to waking up with bandages around her face, she supposed that it was a small price to pay in the grander scheme of things though. _

_Her awakening was much different this time. For one thing, she was still in the operating room. For another, there was a searing pain central to her mouth. She parted it to grumble a, "what the fuck", but the pain took on a new level of intensity. She almost fell back under. _

_She heaved herself up. _

_She saw her surgone sitting at the opposite corner of the room sporting a grotesque grin. It took Icy a moment to register that the woman's lips were puffy and stretched almost impossibly. They only stretched further when the woman's smile widened. _

**.oOo.**

Lucy held up the old newspaper clippings. A chill ran down Mirta's spine as she read the headline; Plastic Surgeon Murders Coworkers and Mutilates Clients. "I don't want to read this, Lucy." She wasn't sure that she could stomach the details. Lucy, being Lucy, made a point of slowly reading it aloud. A grizzly piece about a surgeon who grew tired of dealing with bitchy clients. She snapped on a fine September day; slitting the throats of her coworkers and botching the surgeries they were in the middle of performing. Mostly, she focused on the mouths, injecting them with obscene amounts of botox or slashing the person a larger smile. To those that she resented the most, she did both.

"Okay, Luce." Mirta cut in. But Lucy continued, "according to the article, she had one paitent that she hated the most. She saved her for last."

Mirta watched her skim the article.

"Gave her the injections and the slashing. But apparently she gave the woman an unwanted and botched facelift too." Lucy burst out laughing which had Mirta cringing more violently.

"How can you laugh at that?"

"Because it's like five years old, who cares?" Lucy shrugged. "They shut the place down."

"So?"

"So, it's been abandoned for years." When Mirta didn't respond Lucy added, "don't you want to know why?"

"Because what happened was gory and unethical and no one would want to be in a building that a massacre took place in?" Mirta guessed.

"Correct! Almost."

Mirta tilted her head.

"We want to be in there, dumbass." She gave Mirta a thump on the shoulder.

"Maybe you do." Mirta shuddered.

"Come on. You are the one who said that you wanted to visit a haunted place."

It was an activity she was beginning to rethink.

"The nurse mutilated her own lips too." Lucy declared. "They say that she still haunts the place alongside a few of her victims."

"Great, that's nice, Lucy." Mirta pretended to get herself invested with hex homework. Though she knew that she'd be finishing it in the lobby of a cosmetic surgery facility.

.**oOo**.

"Come on, before we get caught." Lucy hissed from the other side of the fence. "Be careful, there are barbs at the top.

She could see thin lines of blood on Lucy's palm, furthering her own hesitance. Eventually, with a deep breath, she was climbing over the fence, landing gracelessly when her skirt snagged on one of the barbs. She brushed her knees off and followed Lucy into the decaying building.

Only five years into neglect and it was already host to a plethora of ivys and weeds. There was a musty smell clinging to the place, with an uninviting tang of disinfectants. Lucy peeled a few boards from the door and ducked under.

Mirta clicked on her flashlight before making her own entry. The lobby was surprisingly clean, almost ordinary looking save for a single red splotch on the corner of the main counter. Lucy busied herself digging through the draws. She busted out laughing. "Carrie Glenn popped her tit implants and had to come in for new ones." She slapped the file down. "This happened every other month!" Her voice dropped lower, "legend has it she still returns to this very clinic trying to fix that same boob."

"Lucy, that's just stupid."

"Why are you laughing then?"

"Because it's so stupid." Mirta insisted. She jumped at the sound of a metallic clatter. She whipped her head in its direction and then back to Lucy, eyes wide. Her friend only shrugged.

"I think that we should…"

"Go back to the dorms?"

"Check it out." Lucy corrected. She didn't leave much room for protest in walking down the dark hall.

"At least turn your flashlight on!" Mirta called. There was no way that she was going to investigate. Not even a teeny chance. Especially if the sound had come from the room that she thought it did.

She tapped her foot nervously on the tiles, she almost hated being alone as much as the idea of getting anywhere near the surgeon's death room. She began to pace. Eventually she had enough of the silence and called for Lucy.

No answer.

She tried again.

No answer.

Her stomach knotted. "Come on, Lucy." She mumbled to herself. She found herself going rigid and at first she couldn't place why. The sound was faint, a rustling of papers. She didn't want to turn around. But she did, hoping that she simply hadn't noticed Lucy slipping back behind the desk.

Instead, her eyes fell upon a tall woman with long white hair. Her blue eyes were both stunning and piercing. She would have been gorgeous were it not for the unnatural swelling of her lips and the fountain of blood that streamed from them and onto her collar.

Mirta jolted back, scrambling away until her back hit the opposite wall. She didn't like the sound of the woman's laugh. Mirta squeezed her eyes shut. Why was it she who was dealing with the crazy surgone, it was Lucy who had sought her out.

She felt cold fingers cupping her chin and tilting her head up. She closed her eyes harder.

"Look at me." The woman demanded.

Mirta tried to shake her head. The woman didn't command twice. She didn't have to, Mirta opened them on her own and when she did she noticed that the skin on the woman's face seemed to be stretched all too tightly over her skull.

Some of the tension left Mirta's body, it wasn't the surgone that she was dealing with after all.

"You should go."

"But I can't leave Lucy."

The woman dropped her and fell back. It was hard for Mirta to keep her eyes from trailing to the woman's mutilated mouth.

"I take it that you want one of these." She pointed at her lips. The corner of her mouth tugged upwards as much as the swelling would allow.

Mirta shook her head.

The ghost opened her mouth but a loud clang and a shout fill the silence before she could. She looked towards the dark hall and then back at Mirta. Without another word, she faded. A deeper chill resonated from Mirta's core.

"Lucy?" She called meekly. "Luce?"

She heard the rustle of fabric. Something shifting in the shadows. Mirta backed towards the door, prepping herself to heed the ghost's advice. The figure partially emerged and Mirta could see the gleam of a combat boot. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Lucy, you scared the shit…"

Lucy held stiff and bloody hands at chin level, not quite touching her face. Her eyes bulged and tears roamed freely down them. But she was smiling. Smiling and gushing blood. A needle embedded in her cheek and another in her brow.

She stumbled forward and reached out.

At best she was a coward, at worst she was a selfish and dreadful friend.

Mirta threw the door open as a pair of skeletal, scalpel wielding hands wrapped around Lucy's eyes.


End file.
